Aftermath
by crosstheindigo
Summary: Thoroughly done with peoples injustice after the apocalypse, Aaron was hoping to live his life without brushing painful memories. A reconnaissance mission gone wrong, a sister suddenly vanished, a best friend lost to the militia. The revolution took everything, even Aaron's ideals...At least, until a stubborn sniper filled his world with passion again. Even among death and chaos, w
1. Chapter 1: Yami

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line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Clicks echoed down the hallway, Aaron braced himself and pushed for a last bolt toward the red flickering exit sign. Relief thawed his core as the door faced no resistance against his frustrations. Morning light made his vision go white. A jolt of panic swept across his body like a hot flash. "Damn it-" Aaron ground his teeth and instinctively took cover behind a rusty piece of metal. The map crinkled as he removed it from his back pocket, "the merchant said this way was clear." Peeking his eye through a rusted hole,  
he spotted the remnants of a fight. Giant pieces of metal roofing were leaning against wooden crates. Chairs, lamps, and tables formed a barricade further down; however, charred carnage showed the sad story of a hopeless fight against- well, Aaron didn't speculate that far. He ducked to close the door behind him as a small whimper echoed off the / "Nghh…."  
it was faint. Eyes shut, fists clenched, Aaron sighed and despite better judgment navigated behind the debris to the source of the noise. A screech of metal against the bottom of his shoe echoed in the alleyway. The air went abnormally still, suffocating with a peculiar smell of decay. Aaron pulled up at the red bandana around his neck, stretching its gasp on his sweat drenched back, and covered his lower face. Peering beyond his cover Aaron's eyes found a young boy, only a few years younger than himself, barely alive and barely / "Oh, shit-" Aaron leaped to the voice's body, he was sitting with his back to Aaron,  
his left arm caught in rock /"B-b-" the boy coughed / "What is it?"  
Aaron pulled a med kit from his bag, and examined the boy's arm.  
Everything below his shoulder was gone, thick red blood dripped through the rocks cracks and into a puddle./p 


	2. Chapter 2: Mark

Mark ducked out of the alleyway and down the street lit by the early morning sun. Stripped cars on blocks littered the lanes of black asphalt for as long as his vision allowed. A nice breeze cooled the sweat collecting on his back, a brief moment of nostalgic relaxation came to mind. There was a time he walked these streets with that confidence all the time. Feeling safe and free in the cool breeze. Even if it takes his entire life, he would see it returned to that state-he would live to see a day where ravaged bodies didn't collect in the gutters and savage rats didn't gnaw on life.  
Most people stayed off the main roads, but Mark was well established here. Having keen senses of his surroundings helped keep him safe too, anyone else would've fallen victim to bandits by this point. Turning the corner, he heard a shot echo from further up. A nasty stench was in the air, Mark's nose wrinkled in disgust as he crouched and edged along the shadows of abandoned vehicles that lined road. As he moved closer to a couple of gunshots, his foot kicked something squishy. Attention turned down, he saw a pale hand sticking out from under the car. Dipping his head down revealed a full caravan of bodies underneath the cars. Switching the rifles hold in his hands, he crept forward. More bodies, women, men, children…Mark bit his lip-anger boiling with a wrath he despised.  
"Bandits," Mark whispered, eyes narrowed he hurried his pace to the echoes. Just toward the end there was a single alleyway with staircase railings on both sides. Clenching his jaw he rushed forward, the bodies smelled like they'd been cooking under the cars for hours. The alleyway was their spider web and Mark was going to make sure he ripped the threads apart. He could only hope that any flies stuck in the web were still alive, increasing his pace, he scaled a broken staircase ladder. Barely managing to stifle the squeaks from the rusty stairwell, Mark climbed to the top platform. From this view he could see the group of bandits closing in on a figure taking cover behind a metal dresser. An identical platform to the one Mark crouched on was on the other side of the alley, and as Mark ran along, he saw ladder that allowed a couple guys to scale down the wall. Glancing down, he saw the short-haired man still facing out to the alley, his back to the platform's ladder; Mark's heart raced, the idiot was facing the wrong way! Mark crouched out of sight and ran along the creaky metal platform to the end, he heard a loud smack as he settled down in the corner, out of the bandits view.  
"Don't be too rough on this one," a well-trimmed man sneered as he approached the short-haired man, who laid on the ground, "he has a nice face."  
Mark pushed his glasses back and positioned his rifle. Leaning forward and adjusting his shoulders, he gazed through the scope. The scruffy guy tried to get up, but another pushed him back down with the slam of his boot. "I don't know if I can resist bruising this one…" the man's broad chest inflated with pride, as he skimmed the barrel of his gun against the scruffy guy's face, "you never gave me a chance to rough the other one up."  
Victory never look so disgusting to Mark than it did on that that man's smug face as he grinded his boot into the feeble body beneath him. Mark tightened his grip on the trigger, focused his aim to the man's head and with a deep breath let it go. A sharp shot took him down, his body going lax and falling to the ground.  
"Victor!" the well-trimmed man screamed, kneeling down for a brief moment to his comrades body, he gestured commands to the other two men and ran down the alley. Mark took this time to refocus himself, the other two men pulled out their guns and gazed upward, trying to locate the shooter. Mark took a breath and with perfect precision fired two more shots. Bodies slumped and he saw the short-haired man trying to stand. Mark dashed toward the rickety ladder on his end managed to get down without breaking it. Throwing his gun up he switched on the red light as a warning, just in case he's in on it…  
"Hands up!" Mark stood where the others had approached him from. The scruffy guy nearly jumped to a stand with his hands up when he saw the red dot lingering on his chest. Mark took in the man, slightly taller than him, not geared for fighting, he's just a traveler. Mark began to lower his gun when the man stumbled in front of him. The guy's balance faltered for a moment as he floundered to grip onto an upside-down wooden desk. Mark dashed forward in time to catch the short-haired man as his legs gave out. Grasping the scruffy guy's waist, he leaned him back onto his chest, trying to keep him steady, "Are you okay?"  
"Hmmmma," the dead weight lightened as the short-haired man's eyes flickered open with a jolt of pain, "besides the metal stake lodged in my head, and- and the dot!" The guy wriggled out of Mark's arms like an eel and jumped a yard back, his hand reached to his side so Mark dropped his gun.  
"Woah! It's okay," he raised his hands as a peaceful gesture, "you didn't seem like a bandit…"  
"I-I'm not…" the other guy's shoulders sunk as he shook his head, "sorry, I- I guess I should be thanking you, it was you right? The sniper?"  
"Uh, yeah," Mark rolled his eyes toward his sniper rifle, as he relaxed his arms  
"Well, thank you," the scruffy man replied, his eyes darting around the premises.  
"No problem," Mark responded, but a warm smile was dismissed when his eyes fell on a pool of blood, "I'm just sorry I wasn't here in time to save your friend."  
The other guy whipped around, eyes wide and jaw clenched, "I-I didn't even know his name."  
"Wait, so…" Mark looked up and down at this scruffy guy, and then at the alleyway, "Did you really fall for their bait?"  
The scruffy guy's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, "the merchant said it was supposed to be clear- I didn't even think about it. I thought this was an old battle ground," the other man sputtered, the tips of his ears we're red-Mark felt a tug in his chest.  
"Merchant?" Mark redirected his attention, "did he sell you a map?"  
The scruffy guy tilted his head in confusion, "how'd you know?"  
"This is what I get for giving people chances," Mark growled, "you're not the only one who's bought maps that lead to ambushes. Third actually, and now I don't think it's a coincidence. Where did you last see the merchant?"  
"He was in the back of a corner shop down town," a flash of pain washed across his features, Mark stepped into his space, arm forward just in case he passed out again.  
"Which one?" Mark asked.  
"Well, I guess I'll tell you when we get there," the other man shifted his body in response to Mark's invasion of space.  
"What?" Mark raised an eyebrow.  
"That douchebag sold me a map that nearly got me killed, there's no way I'm letting him off," the scruffy guy reached his hand out, "I'm Yamimash."  
Mark smirked and with a cheeky smile shook Aaron's hand, "Markiplier."


End file.
